Give a Man a Fish
by Inks Inc
Summary: A surpise is a-brewing at NCIS. Completed (Fluffy) One-Shot.


Swinging into the bull pen, Gibbs stopped short from throwing himself behind his desk. Something was off, something was up. He immediately felt it. Eyes narrowed, he turned slowly to face his horrified looking trio of field agents who clearly weren't expecting his return so soon. All three were huddled behind Tony's desk desperately avoiding his gaze. Taking his sweet time, he ambled slowly over to land in front of them. Sipping his coffee slowly, he ran an appraising glare over the whole lot of them.

"Something going on here?"

Tony dropped his much coveted stapler. Looking up and plastering on his winning smile, he shrugged loosely. "Nope, nothing going on here Boss….we were just uhh….well, we were just…-"

"Tying up loose ends on the last case whilst waiting for a new one, Gibbs." Tony flashed Ziva a furtive look of gratitude with Tim following suit.

Gibbs sipped slowly, and stared deeply.

"Is that right? Tell me, is there some kind of technical failure going on around here, forcing you three to share the one computer?" The question hung in the air for a moment, before the best suited candidate to answer swallowed some air and smiled wanly. "No Boss, we were just uhh…having a camp fire around uhm…this, you know…particular computer."

Tony shot him an incredulous look. So _now_ he wanted to endorse his wonderful idea of the sacred campfire? Gibbs felt a certain and familiar weariness set about him. He was no stranger to late nights and early mornings, but recently…they really seemed to be catching up on him. He just didn't have the energy to investigate what was going down right under his nose. The elevator pinged behind him, and he didn't need to turn around to see it was Abby, nor did he need to turn to see her hightail it back into the lift at Tony' expressive eye widening.

They were clearly all in on it.

He sighed.

"Get back to work, actual work…before I light your campfire under your damned asses," he muttered slowly, before turning and depositing himself behind his desk. He didn't miss the confused and yet oddly affirmative looks that followed him, but again, he was too beat to even issue his customary growl. Whatever it was, he'd find out about it anyway, in time.

He always did.

Jerking his own monitor into life as Tim and Ziva silently returned to their own desks, he stared groggily at the blinking screen. Even his stronger than usual strong as hell coffee wasn't doing it for him. He ached in places he hadn't ached since the corps. There was a constant headache behind his eyes, and he found himself swallowing yet another yawn. He did _not_ need Ducky to walk past and see him showing any signs of sleepiness. He couldn't possibly swallow another lecture about unused holiday time or reminders he wasn't as young as he used to be.

He snorted quietly.

He definitely didn't need reminding he was no longer a spring chicken.

A sleepy silence descended over the bull pen, and Gibbs for once, didn't see the looks and raised brows that were passed amongst his team. He also didn't see the tell tale signs of texts passing between the three, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open as he trolled through cold cases. It was wrong to wish for a new case he told himself firmly. New case, meant new body in all likelihood.

But still….fresh air _would_ be good.

"Coffee run," he announced abruptly, and standing just as abruptly. "Pick a cold case for me when I'm gone, if I have to look through that pile one more time I'll kill someone." Striding towards the lift, he added "And that someone will be one of you," over his shoulder before slipping into the lift. A few minutes later and he was breathing in the fresh air and aroma of coffee of his favourite cart deeply. Even the overwhelming smell of communal coffee didn't perk him up.

He frowned angrily.

He wasn't used to such human trivialities as tiredness.

After half an hour and no improvement to the tired itching behind his eyes, he sighed and gave the exercise up as a bad job. Walking gloomily back to the office, he was the epitome of misery at the thoughts of several more hours in a stuffy office, staring blankly at dusty files. Swinging through security, he drank deeply as he rounded back into the bull pen.

He immediately narrowed his eyes.

His team were missing.

Sighing he sat down at his desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He could go looking for them, find out what they were up to…or he could enjoy the peace and quiet. The lack of refereeing between Tony and Ziva, and between Tony and Tim. He'd just take this second of quiet to close his eyes and try and ease the irritating sting behind them.

A minute or so later, and he was falling into a deep sleep.

Ten minutes later, and shocked, stunned and downright amazed passersby stopped to stare.

There'd been rumours for years that Gibbs never slept.

And here, as they lived and breathed, was the proof.

He _was_ human.

Eventually the novelty wore off, and Gibbs snoozed contentedly in his arms with no ogling. Oblivious to their boss's unusual sleeping habits, team Gibbs were putting the finishing touches to their surprise in the confines of autopsy. Tony, Tim and Ziva marvelled at Abby's handiwork. "You swear you made this?" Tim demanded again, "You actually made this?"

Grinning at her creation, Abby nodded with a wink.

"There are many skills I possess that you know not of, Agent McGee."

Somehow, Tim didn't doubt it.

"I still think he'll go through the roof," Tony muttered, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Abby and Ziva rolled their eyes in tandem. "You do not think he deserves it?" Ziva demanded. "The man is a workaholic. He needs to relax."

Tony's eyes also found the ceiling.

"That man didn't even relax in the womb, Ziva. He sure as hell isn't going to start now."

"You've seen how tired he is," Tim interjected, "He's literally struggling to stay awake today. I've never seen him like this. He needs it, whether he likes it or not. Besides, Abby's going to pitch it…and since when does he say no to _her?"_

Abby grinned.

"Never happened yet."

Tony couldn't argue with the figures, and so merely shrugged uneasily.

"Let's go then," Ziva smiled, "He's bound to be back and to have noticed we are gone now, we do not want to start this off with him in a bad mood." Nodding in defeat, Tony reached down carefully and picked up the truly impressive cake. He'd never seen a boat cake, and he knew he'd never see one like the one he held again. It was a sugary masterpiece, he had to hand it to Abby, she was a woman of many talents.

"If you drop that Tony, I will use your eyeballs for my new alarm system."

Sighing, the SFA held on tighter to the cake and to his belief that this was a seriously bad idea. Clambering into the lift, they were all soon on the way to the bull pen. Stepping out, they all instantly caught sight of Director Shepherd glancing down over the balcony at them as she chatted to another agent. Her full awareness and indeed involvement in the plan, saw her offering both a permissive and tentatively encouraging nod in their direction.

Tony couldn't quite help but think that she had the right idea.

Being behind locked doors was probably a good idea.

He was suddenly seized by the urge to join her.

Tim also was beginning to have reservations, and was grateful that the communal office area was empty save for non permanent admin staff. At least if the cake went flying, there'd be no federal witnesses. Even Ziva was beginning to indulge in second thoughts. This…didn't seem very Gibbs-ish. In fact, as they turned the corner into their cubicles, it struck her as being the most un Gibbs-ish thing she could think of. But, Abby wasn't to be deterred, and happily and bouncily accepted the cake from a now ashen looking Tony.

She gave them all an encouraging grin as they all turned to land in front of Gibbs' desk.

Four mouths fell open in tandem.

Abby recovered first, and barely managed to hold on to her cake.

"Is he dead?" she shrieked wildly, "Tony…TONY…is he dead? I can't…is he…why is he…oh my god….will someone check if he's…oh my god…"

Gibbs' head instantly snapped up, with a single sheet of paper hanging maniacally from his cheek.

"Who's dead? We got a case? Why is there a boat in here…why uhh…"

He shook his head sleepily.

"Boss," Tony mumbled anxiously, stepping forward, "What's the matter? Are you sick? Are you…uhh, were you just uhm…napping?"

Gibbs blinked rapidly, before feeling an unusual embarrassment sweep through him.

"Don't be ridiculous DiNozzo," he snapped waspishly, "I was…well, well I think the question is where have you four been? I come back here and you're AWOL? And what is with that boat?" His eyes narrowed, "That's one hell of a boat, who…who made that boat?"

"I did," Abby squeaked, looking alarmed, "For your…birthday."

Gibbs blinked again, but slowly this time.

"My birthday? It's not my birthday?"

Tim cleared his throat nervously. "Uhh…actually it is, Boss. Not that you look another year older or anything," he added hastily, "In fact, you look younger…if…uhm, anything." He trailed off helplessly, as Tony rolled his eyes. He knew this was a bad idea. Gibbs hated birthdays, most of all his own. He chewed his lip nervously as Abby gingerly set the cake down in front of the bemused looking team lead, with her grin returning.

"Do you like it? I made it."

Gibbs glanced down at the cake once more as he tried to gain his bearings. It was a thing of beauty, a miniature scale of the new creation currently in his basement. He felt an odd sensation in his stomach as he stared at it, and then up at his favourite lab rat. Standing up, he leant across the desk and kissed her gently on the cheek. "I love it Abbs, thank you," he muttered quietly, causing her to beam happily.

"There's more," she informed him with a bounce, before turning to Tony. "Show him!"

This…was the part that the SFA wasn't that sure about. Swallowing nervously, he rummaged in his pocket and withdrew an envelope containing tickets, cabin reservations and transfers. Placing it beside the cake, he shrugged with an awkward smile. "It's from all of us, Boss…and it's cleared with the Director. Two weeks in Mexico, at a new fishing place/park Mike has sussed out. He'll meet you on his side, and bring you to the joint, he's expecting you…"

He stepped rapidly back.

"You have…uhm, eighteen weeks unused vacation carrying over the last four years, and the Director insists you use some of them at least." He swallowed again, and saw his opportunity. Pointing at an equally nervous looking Tim, he sighed dramatically. "It was all his idea, Boss, he's the one you want to kill…not me."

Tim mewled indignantly.

"It was _not_ my idea…well, alone anyway. It was all of ours. Ziva too!"

Ziva took a hasty step back.

"Uhh…you know what? I think I misunderstood what they meant, Gibbs…my English, you know…it still needs some work."

Abby glared at the three of them in sheer accusation. "Traitors," she hissed, before turning back to a silently staring Gibbs. "Look…we know you don't like vacations, but-"

Gibbs held up a hand and silenced her.

Striding out from behind his desk, he pointed to the spot directly before him. "Come here, all of you." Silence reverberated for a moment, with Tony's low and horrified "What did I tell you? Are you three morons happy now?" before miserably joining the line up that formed in front of the team lead.

Landing himself in front of Tony first, who winced and braced himself for the head slap of all head slaps, he looked at his second in command closely for a moment. Before reaching out his hand. Over the sounds of Tony's pre-emptive squeak, he quickly ruffled the younger agent's hair before moving along and doing the same to Tim. As their mouths fell open, he moved along the line and drew first Abby and then Ziva into a tight hug, pressing a kiss into the tops of their heads, before stepping back from them all.

"I'll go," he announced, "On one condition, and it's non-negotiable."

Four heads tilted in confusion, reminding Gibbs forcibly of a line up of puppies. He smiled the first genuine and care-free smile, not dogged by tiredness in what felt like forever, and held the envelope up in front of them.

"That you four get your assess on that plane too."

…..

A/N: Fluff. Shameless, plot-less fluff, and more fluff.

….


End file.
